Cop Out
by Lcsaf
Summary: Detective Bella Swan's first case with her new partner, Detective Jacob Black, leads her to the painful reason she became a cop in the first place. Unfortunately, that's the least of her problems...
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own any character whose name you recognize. If I did, Bella would not be so damn stupid in the books.

**A/N: **I can't believe I'm posting this "hot off the press" as it were, but I'm hoping to tempt a Beta reader into working with me, since no one will respond to my requests. (Am I really that bad?)

* * *

**4:45am  
**

"…'right a'ready…" I mumbled, slapping off my alarm clock. Contrary to what the boys down at the station believed, I am NOT, in fact, a morning person. But, there is just no point to laying around in bed all day when there are things to be done and cases to be solved.

I stumbled to the shower…

**6:00am  
**

"IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou," Quil chanted, only mildly surprising me with a hug from behind. "You are the best. Ever." I could smell his non police station issued coffee that wafted from his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, Ateara. I get it. Get off, already," I mock grumbled.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Embry's gaze as he lifted up his surprisingly girly non-fat-double-whipped-mocha-latte in salute. "You're the best, Bella," he agreed.

I ignored the warm glow their caffeine induced praise left me in. "Hey--self preservation," I insisted. "I know how you two are without real coffee."

**10:37am  
**

"Let's go!" Embry shouted as he all but slammed his desk phone into its cradle. "We got a lead."

"The address?" I guessed as the three of us rushed to put on our coats.

"Yeah. The Super called. Said someone's just used the personalized key code for the apartment."

**11:06am**

"SHIT! Get him!" Embry cried, giving chase to our suspect.

"On it!" Quil announced as he put forth a burst of speed, surpassing Embry and I. We followed, and watched as our partner disappeared into an abandoned building. Stupid clichés.

"Back Quil. I'll cover the other side," I told Embry.

He nodded and we split up.

The extra speed I poured on was worth the stitch in my side because I saw our guy trying to tear out the back door as I rounded the corner.

One thing for clichés was that they were at least predictable. Abandoned buildings always have at least one back door.

I braced myself and threw all my weight against the door, causing the suspect to stumble backwards. I used the precious seconds to draw my gun. "_Freeze!_" I commanded.

Of course he didn't. But it didn't matter because just before the guy could make another break for it, Quil tackled him to the ground.

"'_Freeze' _means '**stop**', idiot," he growled, cuffing the guy.

Embry came barreling out the door then too, gun in hand, but relaxed at the sight of us. "You got him?" he asked Quil.

"Nah," Quil answered, tossing me a wink. "Swan did."

"Go, Bella!" Embry cheered in my ear as Quil recited the Miranda Rights.

3:05pm

I loved the bullpen. The cacophony of telephones, faxes machines, loud criminals and fellow cops always energized me the way cleaning used to. I thrived on the noise and energy. It helped me push through my day.

"I don't get it," Quil groaned from his desk. He leaned over his keyboard, clearly frustrated. "How the hell can you actually _**like**_ doing this fucking paperwork, Bella?"

I frowned at him, even though he called me out. It was true. I preferred writing the reports and sifting through the statements more than anything else--even cuffing the bad guys. I even wrote my personal reports by hand but always typed everything up as well.

"The devil's in the details, Ateara," I teased. "And I hope you're not speaking to Claire like that."

From the next desk over, Embry snorted. "Claire's probably the one encourage him."

Embry once let it slip that Quil--_"fun-loving-badass-cop-extraordinaire" _(Quil's words; not ours)--was in a very serious, very long term relationship. I was pretty surprised, given what I knew about Quil back then. He just didn't seem the type. I was even more shocked to learn that his girlfriend was only a junior in college and that Quil had basically been in love since the moment he laid eyes on her at some cookout or something.

Claire was a bit wild and kind of a tomboy, but seeing her and Quil together--it made sense, even though I never would have believed it. They mellowed each other out, oddly enough. Oh well. This world took all kinds….

"Swan!"

The three of us turned our heads in unison to see our boss, Captain Sam Uley, standing in the doorway of his office with what had to be one of the most gorgeous men I had ever seen.

The new guy shared the same sepia toned skin and fantastic skeletal structure of the Native American heritage, like Sam, Quil and Embry did. His hair was black, thick and glossy, and pulled back to a low tail that went just past his shoulders. It was the longest hair I had ever seen on a male officer.

Standing next to each other, the two of them made quite an imposing sight. Both tall--reaching well over six feet--dark and handsome and clearly not pleased. For a second, I wondered if they were related, but quickly discarded that notion. For one, while they had similar colouring, neither the Captain nor his guest looked even remotely alike. And their body language was all wrong for a supposed visit to a relative. Sam was crossing his arms and the male model beside him was clenching his jaw in such a way that I could see it from where I sat.

"Uh-oh," Quil muttered cheerfully.

"What did you do, Swan?" Embry asked in a concerned tone.

"Me?! He probably wants to talk to me about the two of _you_," I joked nervously. I rose from my desk, keeping my eyes on the new guy and my boss and tried not to let my emotions run across my face. I was rewarded for my efforts by witnessing the surprise run across the stranger's face before he whipped his head to stare at Sam.

I struggled to hide my smirk. Female cops weren't uncommon, but someone of my stature wasn't exactly what one would expect. I knew I was slender and pale and a little on the short side and I used it to my advantage. Bad guys rarely saw me coming.

I saw the new guy open his mouth to speak, but with all the noise in the pen, I didn't have a prayer of hearing him.

I barely made it halfway to the office before both men at the doorway turned back in to the office, leaving me to follow and close the door as per instruction.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

The Captain sighed.

My stomach dropped as I settled into a chair. Nothing good ever followed that sigh. I noticed the room's other occupant remained standing.

"Swan, this is Detective Jacob Black," he said, gesturing to the man in the corner. "He just transferred into the unit." I had barely a chance to acknowledge Black when Uley started in again. "I want to place him with you."

"What!?" I heard Black cry just as I spluttered out an "Excuse me?"

"You mean with the team?" I tried.

"I mean with **you**, Swan. Partners. Call and Ateara can handle themselves."

I tried not to let my shoulders slump in defeat, but I was pretty sure my feelings were evident. Sam Uley's word was always final. No ifs, ands or buts about it. No exceptions.

"Yes, sir."

Black must have known this too, because he didn't offer another protest.

"Here," Uley pulled a folder and held it out to me. "You two can start on this."

I took the folder and opened it to look at the file. Behind me, Black shuffled forward to look and I angled it so he could read over my shoulder.

"Cullen Pharmaceuticals?"

Whoa. I had not expected his voice to sound so…..well, _sexy_. It was warm and slightly husky. I could be in big trouble. _'Focus, Bella,' _I told myself.

Cullen Pharmaceuticals was one of **THE** top Medical Labs in North America, springing up almost overnight. There was always something new coming from them, the next biggest and best discovery in the medical world. I'd remember hearing somewhere that the CEO was some medical prodigy about my age--pretty young to be spearheading a multi billion dollar corporation.

"Cullen himself called this morning to report his secretary missing. Few hours later, a couple uniforms get a call about a wrecked Mazda out in New Castle matching the description of the secretary's car. Her fiancé also reported her missing, saying she never came home."

I flipped through the photos of the car and the poor girl. It wasn't pretty. Blood from a very large head wound had covered half her face and neck. Her left shoulder looked broken and her head itself was leaning against the steering wheel tilting at an angle that wasn't natural.

"Wasn't she wearing her seatbelt?" I muttered, more to myself than anything.

"Looks like she was hit pretty hard," I heard Black state.

I nearly jumped at the nearness of his voice. He had to be leaning down right behind me. He reached over my shoulder and gently tugged one of the photos of the wreck from my hands, before placing it back on top of the small stack and pointed with a large hand. "Look at the size of this dent."

Honestly, I knew squat about bodywork or anything about cars in general. A fact that remained a sore point with my old college roommate, Rosealie--who, despite being a debutante, could fix her own car.

I merely nodded absently, trying to focus on the photo in front of me and not the guy behind me. Why was I so aware of him?

The sound of Captain Uley clearing his throat shook some sense back into me and we both looked up to see him staring expectantly at us.

Whoops.

"We'll uhh, get right on it, sir," I responded, standing up hastily.

Uley nodded. "Swan'll show you your desk, Black." And like that, we were dismissed.

Black scowled for a moment, but let it go as we left the office.

"So, how much of a good thing am I breaking up?" he asked as we crossed the pen.

I frowned. "Call, Ateara and I are a good team," I insisted. "Well…we _**were**_, I guess."

Black put a warm hand on my shoulder and stopped me. "I didn't mean to come in and wreck any happy homes," he said sincerely. "Honestly, I was trying to convince the Captain that to let me go alone. I work better that way."

I could tell he wasn't just bragging or trying to be mean, just being truthful. Which was kind of sweet, coming from a cop in Homicide.

I sighed and ignored the fluttering in my stomach. "Sam Uley's just doing what he thinks is best. It's worked pretty well, so far," I admitted. I reached up and gave his hand a squeeze. "We'll just have to make do."

We made our way back over to my now former partners, who were watching us openly. Embry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his face and smirked. Quil leaned forward.

"What's going on, Swan?"

"Guys, meet my new partner, Detective Jacob Black."

"Partner?!" Quil cried.

"He _didn't_…." Embry breathed.

"He **did**," I assured him.

"Why weren't _**we**_ informed about this?" Quil demanded.

"I just _told_ you," I muttered dryly, crossing my own arms. "Sam probably didn't want to deal with your outbursts."

"Aren't there proper channels to go through or something?" Quil continued, furthering my point.

"You're just upset Swan's not gonna be here to hold your hand when you have to do paperwork."

"Shut-up."

I turned to Black who had an eyebrow raised at the rapid fire pace the three of us conversed. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Du--"

"Detectives Quil Ateara and Embry Call," Quil interrupted loudly, standing and holding a hand out to shake.

I rolled my eyes as I saw Quil administer the squeeze test. Black took it in stride if his grip was any indication.

"Any relation to Ephraim Black?" Embry asked calmly as he too, shook hands with my new partner.

A funny expression came over Black's face. "Uh, yeah…..my great-grandfather."

Embry whistled low. "That means William Black's gotta be your dad. You come from a long line, man."

Quil's eyes grew wide. "Your father Billy Black? He's a legend!"

Black shrugged. "He's just my dad. And I'm just Jacob."

Just Jacob. I liked the way that sounded.

'_**Focus!**__'_

I cleared my throat. "So, we've got to get to work. But, I'll get that report to you first thing in the morning," I told Embry. "Let me know when I need to sign off."

He nodded. "Will do. Good luck with 'just Jacob'."

I swallowed. "Thanks." Really, it was ridiculous to be this sentimental about leaving the case to the boys. They were still going to be stationed right next to me and here I was, trying to talk myself out of 'goodbye' hugs.

"Keep me in the loop, okay?"

"Sure," Embry said, just as Quil scoffed and said "Duh!"

I smiled. Those two…

I turned to Jacob, who was watching me with a soft expression. I was going to be horrified if I even so much as sniffed.

"So!" I said a little too brightly. "Let's get to work!"

* * *

**A/N:** I know. It needs to be formatted. Badly. Nothing I do sticks in the editor.....argh!


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** Since it is _glaringly_ obvious that I don't own _Twilight _or any of the characters you recognize, I guess I'll stick with fanfiction to make them less Twilight-y. Hey! Maybe one day, I too can get a book deal like that Shades of Gray woman.

**A/N: **I have no clue what prompted me to reopen folder this fic was sitting in, but I remember how much fun I had writing it. As I am still without a Beta for this, all mistakes are my own-that includes the way this case is handled. You'd think with all the cop-dramas and dead body shows on TV, I'd have plenty of experience to pull from, but nope! I guess that's what happens when one doesn't watch television.

* * *

**4:31pm**

"You're lucky I'm still here," Dr. Molina told us as he led us to the "dead drawers" as Quil called them. "I've got a long weekend pretending to be in Tahiti with my name written all over it and I was about to book it."

"Don't you have other bodies and paperwork to finish?" Jacob asked him.

"You'll notice I said '_pretending _to be in in Tahiti.' I can finish my reports from home, thanks to interweb commuting" Molina insisted.

"Where's Dr. Banner?" I wondered aloud. He was the Senior Examiner and I always respected his professionalism and kind demeanor during our interactions.

"On a **real **vacation—lucky bastard. Here we are." He pulled the drawer opened and gently uncovered the body.

Angela Weber would have been a very pretty girl in life, even amongst the damage that had been done to her body in or during death. She was tall, reaching 5'10", and willowy-the body of a model-with skin that would have been the color of café au lait. Her hair was a pretty shade of light brown.

"Typical car crash damage to the sternum and face, but that's all that's normal," Molina began. He indicated to her left arm. "Bruising on her upper arm and left wrist suggest that someone was pulling hard enough to dislocate her shoulder."

"Or she could have been the one to pull away to get away from being smacked in the face again." Jacob pointed out the bruising on her jaw.

"I believe that bruising is actually from the buckle of the seatbelt," the coroner admitted. "But your theory might not be all that far off." He lifted the victim's hair on the same side and showed us that part of her scalp was missing.

Jacob leaned forward and examined the body up close. "Hmmm…" he said. "Whoever did this looks like he knew what he was doing." He indicated to the bruising on the neck. "Is the chunks of missing head the COD or the snapped neck?" he questioned.

"With the amount of blood she lost from that nasty head wound, she certainly would have been on death's doorstep," Molina admitted. "But the snap to her neck was done right after. There was some skin underneath her nails and a single strand of hair. It's all been sent for testing, but no word yet."

"She struggled," Jacob concluded.

I felt a pang of sadness for this woman. She spent the last few minutes of her life fighting for it; probably terrified out of her mind with no hope of anyone saving her.

"Time of death was estimated from ten pm to just before midnight."

"What caused the wound to her head?" I quizzed Molina.

He shook his head, looking a little perturbed. "Those are definitely human handprints on her arm, but the way she was attacked…." he trailed off as he lifted Angela's right arm for our inspection. Her other wrist was broken and four deep gauge marks ran from her forearm all the way down her hand, surrounded by several other scratches. "I haven't seen anything but wild animals do that kind of damage."

I turned to Jacob. "We need to find the make and model of that car that hit her."

He nodded. "And see who's missing something important," he declared.

I looked at him and noticed his jaw was clenched. "You think she had something important?"

"You saw the car. This wasn't an accident," he insisted with a hard gaze upon me. "And random crazy attacks made this precisely aren't run of the mill either. The only reason you run someone off the road and then run them down is because they have something you want. Badly. And if you're willing to kill for it…." He paused and looked back at the body again. "Well, you don't have to guess that it's pretty damn important to **some**body."

**5:55pm**

"So, why the transfer?" I asked my brand new partner as we weaved through rush hour traffic in his black GT Mustang.

The trip to the garage had been efficient, painless and aggravating all at once. Angela's car had been hit and knocked off the road by a simple silver 2000 Accord.

"Time for a change of scenery," Jacob told me over the classic rock station playing at low volume.

Wow. Winner of the vaguest answer ever.

I don't know what must have tipped him off more, my suspicious silence or my look of obvious disbelief, but whatever it was made him chuckle.

"Olympia's great and all, but I had to get out from my dad's shadow if I ever want to be known for me and not my 'prestigious linage'." He glanced at me and offered a grin, flashing movie star white teeth. "I'm actually kind of relieved. You're the only person who hasn't made a big deal about it."

"Oh!" I felt my blood begin to pool in my cheeks. "Well, to be honest, I've never really heard of your dad." Or his family, really. Of course I knew of Eripham Black, everyone at the Academy did. Being the first Native American in our little section of the Force and setting all kinds of records tended to be recorded in history books and training manuals, but I never really gave it much thought.

Jacob's booming laughter filled the car. "That's great!" he wheezed. "I'm gonna have to tell him that!"

"Don't you dare!" I cried.

"Nah, it's okay. The old man needs to be taken down a peg or two anyways. His head is pretty big."

"Did you ever think about not being a cop?"

"Nope," Jake said almost cheerfully. "I know I said I wanted to be known for me and not my family, but the Blacks seem to have been always born to 'protect and serve'. It's in the blood. What about you? Did you always want to be part of Seattle PD?"

I breathed out a little laugh. "No, actually. I thought about getting an English degree and becoming either a teacher or an editor."

"What changed?"

I hesitated. "My mom," I admitted softly. "And my dad."

Now I was the winner.

Jacob took the mood though, and my hesitance to elaborate, so the rest of ride was spent listening to the radio. Thankfully it was a short trip and we were both all business again as we entered the impressive headquarters of Cullen Pharmaceuticals, since it was closest.

After only a moment of waiting in the foyer, we were lead right up to Mr. Cullen's office, which apparently took up the entire top floor. A few women were rushing around the waiting area: one on the phone lines, which was lit up like a switchboard; another was near a large set of filing cabinets with an appointment book in her lap, apparently going through some files; one girl was having visible trouble dealing with an out dated model computer.

I smirked to myself. Poor thing probably had no clue how temperamental the older models were.

We were quickly ushered into Cullen's office, where he was busy signing the stack of documents another woman was handing him. He looked harassed.

Unfortunately the world didn't stop every time someone died. It kept spinning, leaving those left behind no choice but to continue on even in grief.

"Took his sweet time replacing her, I see," I heard Jacob mumble.

I barely had time to shoot him a glare for the inappropriate remark before Mr. Cullen lifted his head.

Oh. My. God. He had to be the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. From the top of his delightfully rumpled bed hair (a tawny shade I'd never seen before) to his beautiful face, strong jaw and…Heaven help me….his neck. The tie he wore had been loosened, giving me a glimpse of the pale column that just _begged_ me to lick it. I swallowed and tried to focus my attention to something that didn't inspire explosive lust before I got caught staring.

_'Focus on the eyes.' _

Big Mistake.

I met Cullen's gaze for a moment and as he looked at me, the anger in his eyes shocked me, but the expression flitted away and all I could see was tiredness on his face.

"Detectives, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting," he greeted us after his secretary left the room, closing the door behind her. He rose from his desk and gestured us to a large wooden conference table to the left that had been set with a proper tea tray, sandwiches and all. Both the table and the tea set looked antique.

"Angela usually had all of this under control and she would have been here to greet you, but now…." he drifted off and poured three cups and set two in front of Jacob and I before taking a sip of his own.

Four women to fill the void of one? Angela must have been _very_ good at what she did. I slid a meaningful look to my partner and sipped my tea, surprised by the taste.

"Not Earl Grey, I realize. My mother would say that Chamomile calms the soul," Cullen mentioned, catching my expression. He offered me a crooked grin.

I melted.

Jacob nudged my leg under the table and reminded me of my-_**our**_-reason for being here.

"Mr. Cullen," I began. "We have reason to believe we've found Angela….." I pulled out the least offensive photo of the body we had and showed it to him. "Is this her?"

He looked at the picture and the pain and horror that crossed his face was instantaneous. The familiar expression of seeing a deceased loved one or close comrade in such a state.

"We are so sorry for your loss," I murmured sincerely.

Mr. Cullen set the print down but his eyes, his gorgeous eyes never left the image, even as his hand rose to his mouth. "Oh God….how?"

"We're still investigating the circumstances," I told him.

He glanced up. "Does Ben know?"

"Mr. Cullen…it's still an _ongoing_ investigation…." I reminded him gently.

"Right, of course…sorry." His gaze went back to the photo, drawn to it. I slid it back into the folder as much to keep him from the heartbreaking image as to turn his attention back to me. Us.

"How long had Miss Weber been working for you?" I pulled out a notebook and pen, prepared to take notes.

His gaze went distant as he mentally calculated. "Almost six years, but she's only been my right hand for four of them. She started off in the contract department and caught a clause that wasn't in the original contract that we had signed. She told me personally and I promoted her right away." He huffed in amusement. "Her desk has been exactly nine and a half feet from my door since then." He drifted off and stared over my shoulder as if he could see her.

"Did Miss Weber have any enemies?" Jake quizzed. "Anyone jealous that she was working so close to you? You're kind of a big deal."

Cullen shook his head. "Not Angela. Everyone loved her. She was one of the sweetest people you could ever meet. She volunteered with homeless shelters and children's hospitals. She sent a birthday card to everyone on staff and was forever getting me to sign them. And she was so genuine, so _sincere_. When she finally got engaged, I think the entire building was up here at one point, offering congratulations." He was off in his own world again and I could tell he was seeing her again in his mind's eye as he spoke. He truly cared for this woman that he employed.

"I didn't see a ring on her finger," Black insisted.

Cullen frowned into his tea. "You should have. Angela was so happy wearing Ben's ring. She wanted all the world to know she was taken. I talked them into getting it insured. Ben presented her with a three carat solitaire. It certainly caught the eye."

"How was _your_ relationship with her?" Jacob continued.

"We were very close, yes," Cullen admitted with a rueful smile. "But, it was a working relationship, only. Completely platonic. She, Ben and I would have dinner together, from time to time as friends, but nothing else."

I didn't like what Jacob was insinuating, but realized these questions had to be asked. Still, it felt like he was taking my lead to attack Cullen.

"When did you last see Miss Weber?" I continued smoothly.

Cullen offered another grin and I had to remind myself to breathe. "Just before ten last night. I locked up and teased her about me leaving earlier than she did for once. I told her to go home before Ben got too lonely. She promised she would."

"Did anyone see you leave the building?" my partner butted in.

"Rodney, the night guard."

I nudged Jacob in the leg before I asked "Where were you last night between ten pm and midnight?"

"At home. Alone. I'm afraid it makes me somewhat suspect, but I saw no one between then. I went home and went to bed. My housekeeper doesn't come in until six to cook breakfast and deal with my dry cleaning."

"Are you saying you did it?" Jacob prodded.

Cullen glared at him. "Absolutely not. Angela was a saint. She didn't deserve any of this."

I kicked Jacob harder, just as knock was heard at the door.

One of the replacement secretaries stuck her head in. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Cullen, but a Laurent and Victoria from Nomadic Industries are here for their appointment and are insisting that you said that you wanted to meet with them ASAP. I told them you were with the police, but…."

"No, Denise, it's alright. I believe we were done here, detectives?" he trailed off, looking questioningly at me.

"Yes, we're done here, Mr. Cullen," I assured him before Jacob could open his big mouth. "We'll be in touch," I said, giving him my card. "Call us if you remember anything at all."

Cullen actually made a point of looking over my card before smiling at me and opened the door to let us exit. "Certainly, Detective Swan. I just wonder how Ben is doing during all of this."

My breath caught.

It was my partner who had to snap me back.

As we crossed the waiting area to the elevator, I glanced at the two guests. Laurent was dark and would have been seductive looking, if it weren't for the overtly bored expression on his face. Victoria was a vibrant red head and visibly irritated. She very nearly glared at us as she marched past.

"It's about time!" I heard her snap to Cullen "Don't you know it's _rude_ to keep your guests waiting?"

I frowned. She was one to talk about being rude.

"Where's James?" I heard Cullen respond in an equally sharp tone, so dissimilar to the one I'd heard only moments before. It seemed like sexy Mr. Cullen had been driven close to the end of his emotional tether today.

"Busy," she replied before the door closed behind them with something as close to a slam as I'm sure would ever be heard in this office. I felt bad for Mr. Cullen.

"Looks like someone was having a bad day," Jacob chuckled once the elevator doors closed.

"I can't believe you," I hissed.

"What?" Jacob asked defensively.

"You know very well 'what'," I snapped. "You undermined my interrogation. AND you were rude."

"Oh," Jacob said, rolling his eyes. "That."

I fumed. Normally, I wouldn't have been so irritated at Jacob for horning in like that. Lord knows Quil forgot himself more than once and jumped the gun in our questions sometimes. But, it was rudeness that really irked me, plus Jacob had kind of led the line elsewhere than where I intended it to go-alienating Cullen and discrediting me as the Lead Investigator.

"Look, you may have done things differently before where-ever you were. But, we're working together now as partners and as such, you need to respect when I am the lead! And that means stop trying to do my job for me!" I nearly shouted.

"Are you _**kidding**_ me?!" Jacob retorted incredulously.

The flash of anger that spread across his face would have taken me aback had I not been so positive of my own. He looked a lot more like Sam Uley now, a distant part of me noticed.

"First of all, EXCUSE ME for trying to get all of our bases covered. And two, at least I'm not the one being too hormonal to _do _the damn job!" he shot back. "I saw the way you were drooling over Cullen back there. He could have admitted to murder and you would have been over there, trying to console him and get his number."

I sucked in an angry breath. I wanted to say something petty and witty and biting in return, but all that came to mind was _'You're just jealous.' _Not exactly what I was going for, seeing as it wasn't even true and it was childish.

I glared at him. "Why are you attacking him?"

"Here's a better question: why are you defending him? This is a murder investigation here, Swan. Everyone's guilty until proven innocent."

I knew he was right of course, which just made me more irritated. I crossed my arms and fixed my gaze firmly on the elevator doors. The rest of the ride down and the car ride to see the fiancé was tense and silent.

**6:49pm**

Angela Weber had lived with her fiancé, in an apartment on 8th Ave. Just northeast of the Key Center.

Ben Cheney looked worse for wear when he opened the door. The apartment was nice, if a little small, and clearly decorated by a woman with soft pastels on the curtains and cozy furniture, including an overstuffed couch which Ben sank into after offering us a seat. The coffee table in front of him was littered half a dozen empty beer bottles, used tissue, a coffee mug and an address book, which lay open. The TV had been on, but the sound was on mute. Ben Cheney was already up to date on his fiancée's status.

"I'm sorry the place is such a wreck," he sighed belatedly as he eyed the table and the living room in general. "Angela'd have a cow if she'd…." he gave a watery sigh and reached for the bottle closest to him and drained it.

Jacob raised a brow, but said nothing. Ben had clearly had more than a few to not care about drinking in front of cops. Not that I blamed him.

"Mr. Cheney, I am so sorry for your loss," I began. Ben said nothing, so I moved on. "When were you expecting your fiancée home last night?"

"I…don't know," he admitted slowly. "Angela worked pretty late sometimes, but she always came home. Sometimes I was in bed before she got here, though. I was in bed last night-maybe eleven-thirty? I was going to sleep in late because it was my turn to take the car to work, when I woke up and Ange wasn't here I thought maybe she'd forgotten that it was my turn, but she didn't answer her cell and she didn't answer her desk phone and then I get a call from Edward Cullen telling me that she never came to work this morning and that's when I started panicking."

Well, that covered the next few questions I had scripted. I mentally jumped down my list. "What was she doing out in New Castle?"

Ben shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, we'd been looking at maybe getting a house in New Castle-away from the city, yanno? Start a family there. A friend of my dad knew a Realtor out that way who agreed to let us borrow a house there for this weekend to see how we liked it. But, we weren't going to get the key until Friday afternoon. I don't know why she was out there. Why did this happen to her?"

He looked so lost, staring blankly at the coffee table, my heart twinged. Homicide investigation was a horrible, messy, awful job. Everyone was supposed to be a suspect even when they were hurt by the death of a loved one, and no matter how many cases I worked, I couldn't seem to keep myself from hurting with and for them-for their loss.

I reached out and squeezed his arm lightly. "We are doing everything we can to find out," I promised him sincerely. I let go and leaned back, reverting to my interview. "Mr. Cullen said she didn't have any work enemies. She didn't have any personal ones?"

Ben shook his head. "No. No way. Not Ange. She loved everyone and everyone loved her. I joked that I wasn't sharing her so freely after we got married."

"Did Angela exhibit any unusual behaviour recently? Any change in her mood?"

"No….wait…yeah, I guess," Ben amended. "She'd been coming home late a little more often. And she's been kinda spacey this last two weeks. Whenever I'd ask, she just said it was a new project at work and I'd drop it."

"You didn't ask her about it?" Jake probed lightly. I frowned, but waited for Ben's answer just the same.

He gave a little snort. "No way. She spent enough time there anyways. We tried not to bring work home. Unless it was really big. We were discussing houses and bills and cooking shows and new books."

"Not your work," Jacob concluded.

"No," Ben agreed.

"Or your bosses," my partner continued.

I sent eye daggers Jacob's way.

Ben shrugged. "Edward came up in conversation from time to time. We all had dinner together sometimes. I think Ange felt bad that he really had no one to go home to."

_'Ha!' _I cried internally. I shot a smug look over Ben's head to Jacob-who scowled-before taking over the conversation again.

"Mr. Chenney, Edward Cullen told us that Angela had an engagement ring, but nothing in our investigation indicated that she was wearing it when she was discovered. Do you happen to have any photos of it for the claims file?"

At this, Ben's head shot up; the look of horror slowly crept across his features. "You don't have her ring?"

I hesitated. "We believe that her death may not have been an accident," I admitted quietly.

"Oh God…."

Ben stood up suddenly and bee lined for the kitchen, leaving Jacob and I staring at each other in mild alarm.

The rattling of the refrigerator had both of us standing and carefully making our way to the kitchen as well, hands on our guns. But Ben was only chugging a bottle of wine, tears leaking from his eyes.

My heart was breaking for him.

Before I knew what I was doing, I had crossed the kitchen was gently pulling the bottle from him and handing it off to Jacob. Ben was crying on my shoulder.

We stood there in the kitchen, the three of us, as I awkwardly tried to console Ben. I tried to convey to Jacob with my eyes, that I needed a hand, but he just stood there staring at me.

Useless.

Finally, he seemed to shake himself from his stupor and helped herd Ben off me and back to the living room and on the couch. I snagged some paper napkins off the kitchen counter and followed them.

"Perhaps, we can come back at a later time," I offered, handing the napkins to Ben.

"No," he insisted as he blew his nose; shaking his head for emphasis. "No, 'm s'rry. 'M jus…." The tears and alcohol were beginning to slur his words, but I understood what he was trying to say.

"It's a lot to take in," I agreed.

He stood up again, wobbling slightly and I couldn't help but hold a hand out to steady him. Ben shook his head again, though I wasn't sure if he was trying to reassure me that he was alright or if he was just clearing his head, but he said nothing and disappeared down the hall that led to the bedroom.

He returned after a few moments with a few enlarged photos of the ring in hand.

I was silently thankful, because Jacob was being uncharacteristically quiet and the expression on his face was starting to make me slightly nervous.

I stood to take them and turned to show them to my partner, who stood as well.

Jacob whistled low. "Now **that** is a rock."

"Mr. Chenney, we can post these photos to local pawn shops, for owners to be on the lookout for anyone who comes in try to pawn this ring," I explained.

Ben nodded sorrowfully. "W'tever it takes t' fin' the bastard who did 'is to 'er."

"We'll catch him," I promised. I turned to the door.

Jacob snapped his fingers and turned to Ben. "Almost forgot!" he said thoughtfully. "Have you noticed anything missing recently? Something that would have had significant personal value to you?"

Ben looked confused as he indicated the negative.

I gave him my card. "Call us if you think of anything," I told him.

He nodded and we let ourselves out quietly.

* * *

**A/N: **Whether it's good enough to keep going, bad enough that you're crying "DEAR GOD! STOP POSTING!" or somewhere in between, please take a moment and review! I can't get better or learn my lesson if I don't know what I'm doing wrong and unless I can con a Beta to help me, it falls to you, dear reader, to let me know how I'm doing.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER:** I never dreamed that a sparkling vampire told me that I was the most important thing in his world. I did not write Twilight. I do not own any characters you recognize.

**A/N: **_For those of you that reviewed: I thank you for your kind words. I do not have a Beta, any and all mistakes are mine, including the plot._

* * *

**7:14pm**

"You really gonna post a BOLO on a ring to every pawn shop owner between here and New Castle?" Jacob asked me skeptically as we made our way down to the car.

"It isn't going to hurt, anything," I defended. "We might get a hit. And maybe we can see what sort of scratches against skin this ring might make. Add it to the description of our suspect."

"Not bad," he admitted.

We got in and Jacob sped off.

"Sooo…" he said after a few moments of driving. "Sounds like Cullen's been working on some sort of new project. Could be something important. Wonder what it was?" he asked mockingly.

His tone irked me. "Just what are you getting at, Black?" I asked peevishly.

He shrugged. "Just trying to connect the dots."

"It sounds like you're trying to make Edward Cullen guilty," I pointed out. "We don't even know what Angela Weber had in her car that provoked the attack. Or if she even had anything. How about we collect some evidence first, before you start randomly accusing people you don't like of crimes they may not have committed?" I snapped.

And just like that, the mood had turned again. The car felt awfully chilly suddenly as Jacob made an irritated noise close to a growl and drove past the precinct.

"You missed your turn," I told him dryly.

He said nothing, but continued on.

"Where are you going?" I asked. "The station's back the other way."

"Food," Jacob replied as he breezed through the next intersection.

"What!? We've got a case to be working on!"

But Jacob's lips were pressed in a thin line that I already recognized as he continued on halfway across the city.

The Chinese place he took us to was some hole in the wall I'd never heard of nor seen before and it looked like I was in good company because there were only two other cars in the lot. I had no intention of going in, but Jacob actually had the nerve to take the case file out of my lap, leaving me to scramble out after it-and him-which of course, led me inside. The dining room was small and dark and almost empty with only three other customers.

Jacob surprised me by actually speaking Chinese to the elderly Chinese lady who came to the booth we had seated ourselves at, so I had no clue what he ordered for himself. He paused and turned to me. "What do you want?"

I glared and crossed my arms. "The files, please. I want to solve this murder."

That jerk actually had the nerve to roll his eyes at me!

I reached for the folder, but Jacob childishly held it out of reach and spoke again to the woman quickly before she nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Ugh! He was being so frustrating!

"Would you relax, already?" my partner asked me irritably, leaning back in the in the booth.

"I'll relax when we have someone behind bars and not wasting our time so you can feed your face."

Jacob's expression turned dark again and he waved the folder in my face. "We'll solve this thing soon enough, but nobody's gonna get anything productive done with low blood sugar." And then he sat on the thing!

I stood up. This was getting ridiculous.

"Where are you going?"

"To Uley," I told him. "If you want to be lazy on your own work, that's your problem, but I'm not having anyone drag me down in my investigations."

Jacob stood up like quicksilver. The very ugly glare I received indicated that I'd hit a nerve, and it was somewhat frightening in its intensity. "Sit. Down," he growled.

It was a battle of wills for a moment as we locked gazes over the table. I had absolutely no reason to stay here while some murderer was out on the loose. There was a bus stop one block from the restaurant which I could easily take back to the station.

Jacob Black seriously looked like he might try to stop me, though. And while I was fully capable of handling myself, I was pretty sure that if it really ever came down to it he would win that battle.

I sat down and after a beat, so did he.

He leaned forward. "You need to get the hell over yourself, Swan. Your type A shit isn't the be-all-end-all way of going about a case and just because you're the lead on this one and have never worked with me before; don't go around assuming that I don't pull my own damn weight, okay? I get things done my own way and _as partners you need to respect that!_"

I sat there stunned. Did he really turn my own words against me? I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

The Chinese woman was back at the table at that moment, pouring two small cups of tea. She placed the pot on the table bowed; to Jacob, who returned the gesture as best as possible from his position, and left us alone again.

"Drink," he ordered, lifting his own cup.

I did, still a little stunned. The taste of Oolong slid across my tongue. The heat burned my mouth slightly, but seemed to clear my head.

"Look, Swan, I'm not here to make your life difficult. I'm really not," Jacob said softly. "I didn't even want a partner."

"Yeah," I grumbled. "You've already made that pretty clear."

He continued as if he hadn't heard me. "But, you're right about Sam. And like it or not, it looks like we're gonna be partners for the long run."

Could he sound any less thrilled?

"So you respect my work and I'll respect yours, okay? And even if you're the lead, you need to let me do my job too. I get my shit done. Deal?"

Wait, what? I must have looked like an idiot staring at him like I did, but I couldn't help it. These mood swings of his were giving me mental whiplash.

But…I knew a peace offering when I saw one. And I was eager to get back to the case.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jacob smiled then, showing me his perfect teeth. He held out a hand. "Jacob Black," he introduced. "Nice to meet you."

I placed my own hand in his. His hand completely dwarfed mine and his skin was so warm. "Bella Swan. Likewise."

After our reintroduction and the ridiculous amount of food brought to the table-Jacob had apparently ordered vegetable spring rolls and lo mein noodles for me; when I protested, he just looked at me and said "Don't be a brat, Bella. Eat."-my partner eventually pulled the case file from his seat and opened it up between us.

"So, here's what I want to know," he started, waving a piece of beef in the air with his chopsticks. "Why didn't the vic call someone on her cellphone? Someone's chasing you down, what do you do? Try to find a safe place and dial 911 while you get there, right?" He popped the beef in his mouth.

I twirled the noodles around on my chopsticks. "You think New Castle was safe?" I asked.

"Angela prolly did," Jacob said around his food. I frowned at him and while he didn't appear at all contrite, he at least had the decency to swallow the rest before speaking again. "I mean, she seems like a hometown girl. What's safer to her than the suburbs?" He started in on some unidentifiable dish.

I slid the folder safely away from the food and studied it closer. There wasn't much besides the initial report and some pictures of the scene. Whoever had written it up and done a very quick and honestly, sloppy job of it-which meant intern work.

I sighed, thinking of the afternoon that was soon going to be spent volunteering to teach the new kids proper paperwork procedure.

"Let's pull her phone records and have Evidence get us her phone just to make sure. Maybe we'll get lucky and she did call someone." I pulled the crime scene pictures out again and studied them.

"Let's go back to the scene," Jacob suggested. "See it for ourselves. This case has already been going ass backwards and I want to see it from a clean angle."

I found myself agreeing and Jacob nodded. "Good," he said, closing the folder and sliding it away again before I could pry it out of his hand. "So, let's have it."

I jerked my head up to see him leaning forward, arms crossed on the table with his dishes stacked neatly in a pile at his elbow. How on earth he'd finished that quickly, I'd never know. "Have what?" I asked.

"Your story. I mean, I pretty much always knew I was gonna go into Law Enforcement. But what turns a prospective English teacher into a cop?"

"It's…." I trailed off at the look in Jacob's eye. He frowned as if he already knew I was going to finish with 'complicated', before I even said it. I straightened my shoulders from where they had unconsciously slumped.

"It was my mom," I said truthfully. Jacob nodded encouragingly and I sighed. "When she got married to Phil Dwyer-"

"Wait. _THE_ Phil Dwyer?" Jacob interrupted.

I nodded. "So, I guess you already know my story," I joked painfully.

Everyone did, really. A disgraced ex-baseball player tended to make national news even before being targeted for a drive by shooting.

It had been like some sort of twisted fairytale gone horribly wrong. Phil was only in the Minor Leagues when my mom had begun dating him and then later decided to marry him. When they wanted to move from our house in Phoenix to Jacksonville, for Phil to be closer for Spring Training, I elected to move to Forks, Washington, to live with my father, Charlie-the Police Chief there. Everything was fine until I got into Dartmouth.

Phil had been drafted for the Majors and he and Renee were just beside themselves. They were happy and Phil had a great career ahead of him with a team that was going to be in the World Series playoffs. Then it was revealed that Phil had been taking some sort of mystery steroids that had gotten the team stripped of their title in the playoffs. He'd been kicked off and fined heavily.

Fans were furious, and rightfully so. But no one had ever expected the enraged shooting. They were aiming for Phil, who hadn't even been home that night. They got my mom instead. Phil was found in a hotel across town two nights later with the bedsheets twisted around his neck like a rope.

I'd been a sophomore at the time, but dropped everything to return to Charlie, who'd been devastated. I don't think he had ever quite gotten over loving my mother.

It was a grisly few months as the scandal rocked our lives while it ran on the TV and in the tabloids. Charlie became a shell if he wasn't obsessing over the case and I kept to the house to resume the cooking and cleaning-tired of the varying looks of pity and disgust I got whenever I went out.

I never returned to Dartmouth. Instead, I wrote a letter to the Dean, formally asking to drop, claiming family hardship. In truth, I just couldn't stomach continuing on Phil's money.

Charlie tried to hide it, but I knew he was obsessed with trying to find the shooter, even though no one was ever officially charged. Only the neighbors' reports of hearing "Fuck you, Dwyer!" and gunfire led the investigating officers to believe it was an angry fan.

"Shit." Jacob voice pulled me back out of my head. "I…"

"You don't have to say anything," I told him. "You didn't have anything to do with it."

It was quiet for minute as Jacob obviously floundered for something to say. I let him. It was easier than dealing with platitudes.

After a moment he cleared his throat and said: "So, you mentioned your dad?"

I allowed a small smile to come to my face. "He's the Police Chief in Forks."

"He encourage you to get into Law?"

"He certainly didn't intend to," I snorted. At my partner's questioning look I elaborated. "I just…I dunno. I guess he was so engrossed in trying to catch an actual bad guy for my mom's murder and some of his drive must have rubbed off on me…"

"And I realized how many families are out there-just like mine—trying to find that answer of what happened and what went wrong to their loved one. And I know how it feels, so if I could give them just that small measure of peace and help justice get served…" I gave a little shrug. "Why not?"

"Woah….you sure you shouldn't've been a social worker?" Jacob joked, breaking my somber mood.

I rolled my eyes.

"Yanno….I lost my mom, too." Jacob's quiet response stilled me. He shrugged at my gaze this time. "She was hit by a drunk driver. I was pretty young at the time."

"I'm…so sorry," I said.

"Hey, we all have our backstories, right?" He shrugged it off and stood, tossing several bills on the table. "Ready to go?" 

**8:22pm**

The scene on the exit to New Castle was still police taped off and guarded by a single uniform when we arrived. Jacob nodded him off for a short break and we were soon the only two around. Jacob and I ducked under the Police tape and surveyed the area. The sun was sinking and we quickly assessed the scene.

"Take a look over here," Jacob said.

The edge of the road to see two sets of tire skids leading off the road and sharply into the grass.

"Chased," he muttered, confirming his theory.

I had to agree that he did appear correct on that part. We followed the marks to the grass and then through the grass to the tree that had stopped Angela's car.

"So, our vic gets shoved off the road to here," Jacob began. "After being chased and our suspect jumps out and tries to take whatever she's got with her."

"Which means our suspect would have been the one trying to open the door and Angela probably grabbed it shut, knocking herself in the jaw with the seatbelt," I concluded, adding to the scenario.

Jacob nodded. "So, our suspect smashes the window and grabs the vic to keep her from getting away. But, she's trying to fight him off."

"So, he hits her, and_ then_ snaps her neck?" I asked.

"Doesn't want to have to deal with her. Our suspect is either desperate and on some sort of time line or that secret is worth killing for," Jacob postulated. "Maybe both."

His line of reasoning was pretty solid, despite my reservation about Angela protecting something.

Jacob stood from where he had been crouched in the grass and looked at me. "I want to talk to Cullen again," he announced.

"What? Why?" I demanded.

"Hear me out," he said, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. "First of all, I really don't think he told us everything."

_Like, what-his social security code?  
_

"And, secondly…I want to ask about that project." At my narrowed eyes, he sighed. "It's the only lead we've really got here. Angela Weber was America's girl next door, so she didn't have any personal enemies, so the only other aspect was her job."

It was my turn to sigh. "Alright, we'll talk to Cullen again….in the morning," I added. "Let's go see what Evidence has before we call it a day." 

**9:40pm**

Evidence, unsurprisingly, had very little for us. There had been no purse, laptop or even a cell phone found at the scene. There were no footprints, because the weather had been pretty dry the last week.

I was already beginning to hate this case.

It was a relief to get home to my quiet apartment. The stress of the day was beginning to take its toll on my shoulders and a hot shower and maybe a glass of wine to unwind sounded so nice.

I moved through the living room to my open air kitchen, pulled my only bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured myself a glass. The cool liquid sliding down my throat was a wonderful feeling and I could already feel myself beginning to relax. Almost an hour and another, I was clean from my shower and snuggled on my couch with my beloved Jane Austin biography, a cooking magazine and a copy of the case file. I had been re-reading the first one, meaning to get to the second and currently enraptured with the last one.

Black had been right. We had no other leads besides Cullen and paint scratches from a Honda Accord-America's most popular car.

Today felt like it had been a bust and the lack of facts I had to show for my work was frustrating. Plus, with my new partner it felt like I was being scrutinized on everything I did and I was sure that I would be watched over by Quil and Embry, not to mention Uley. I hated attention, especially when I was the focus of it.

Kind of like the feeling I was getting at the moment….

I glanced out my windows but saw no one who would be watching. There were no other buildings with floors that had windows facing mine across from me and the only people I saw were the ones on the street, going about their business. I heaved a sigh and returned to the couch.

I probably shouldn't've had that glass of wine. I was pretty much a lightweight (much to the amusement of the guys) and alcohol always made me paranoid. And sleepy.

I decided to turn in early that evening and made sure to double check the locks on all my windows and my door before taking my gun to my bedroom. I wasn't something I made a practice of at all, but I had long ago learned that my instincts weren't something to ignore, even if I was loose from the wine.

I slept fitfully that night, but remained unscathed and got ready for work. 

**5:53am**

Jacob was already at his desk, setting up, when I walked in. "You look well rested," he mocked in a cheerful tone. "Coffee?" He took an exaggerated sip from his mug that had a bikini babe on a bike.

Ugh. _Charming._ I wrinkled my nose in distaste and sat myself down at my own desk. "No thanks." That stuff had always tasted like dirt to me.

"Tea drinker?" Jacob guessed.

"Sometimes," I admitted as I pulled out the modified case files that I had typed up last night. "Mostly orange juice in the morning, though."

"Freshly squeezed yourself, of course," he teased.

"Yes, actually."

He paused. "Wait-seriously?"

"Yes, seriously," I told him. I rolled my eyes. Why did guys always have that reaction to my juicing skills? It wasn't like it was a big deal. I tossed him the reformatted case file. "Here."

Jacob took it and opened it with a low whistle. "Geeze, Swan. When did you get this done? Before or after the juice?"

"Last night. I got tired of looking through that mess."

"Did you make the paper, too?"

I rolled my eyes again. I had a feeling that I was going to be doing that way more often with my new partner than I ever did with Quil. "You're welcome."

"So, what's the game plan?" Jacob asked as he flipped through the file.

"BOLOs," I told him, booting up my computer. "Then the phone records, _then_ we talk to Cullen."

I had barely gotten off the phone with Judge Hardaway's secretary, Beatrice, from booking our appointment when my desk phone rang again. "Swan," I answered. It was the lab-with results. "We'll be right there." 

**6:40am**

Roger looked up from a mass spec scan as we entered the lab. His glasses gleamed with the glow of the computer screen. "Hey, Bella!"

"Hey, Rodge," I greeted. "Whatcha got?"

"So I ran your skin and nails…well, you know, not _your _skin and nails, but the ones the M.E. found on your victim…"

"Uh-huh," I responded. Rodger was sweet but geeky and had a tendency to talk too much. Sometimes, he had to be prodded along.

"Well, the hair and the skin came from the same person, but they didn't belong to anyone in the system."

"Of course not," Jacob muttered. Roger blinked and looked at him as if just realizing that there was someone else in the room besides the two of us.

"Oh, Roger, this is my new partner, Detective Jacob Black. Jacob, this is Roger, 'local lab legend'," I introduced. "Roger gets results quicker than anyone else in the department."

Roger beamed.

Jacob nodded. "Okay, 'local lab legend', what else can you tell us besides the fact that our guy's not in the system?"

"How about what's in _his_ system?"

"And that would be?"

Roger shook his head. "My best guess? Today's latest wonder drug." He pulled up results on screen to show us the tox-report. "At first I thought steroids, but…this is way more complex than anything else I've seen."

I felt cold at the 's' word, but chided myself for being so sensitive.

"The amount of testosterone in this guy's system is through the roof, but from what I can see…this wasn't really meant to bulk somebody up. Not like those bodybuilders," Roger was saying.

"No?"

"No way. This would be like….aggression in a pill format, is my best explanation."

"That could explain the amount of violence done to Angela's body," I mused quietly. Jacob agreed. "Okay, thanks, Roger," I said as we left the lab.

"Oh…yeah, bye, Swan…"

"You're awfully quiet," Jacob noted as we left.

"I'm just thinking…." I answered honestly. A dozen thoughts seemed to be swirling through my head all at once and it was messing with my mood.

Jacob switched topics. "So, what was with that forlorn look 'local legend' lover boy was giving you as we left?"

That snapped me out of my brooding. "Who? Roger?!" At my partner's arch expression, I shook my head. "No way."

"I saw the way he was looking at you," he teased.

"He was probably just upset that I didn't bring anything with me," I insisted.

Black tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "It pays to be nice, Black."

Jacob's gobsmacked expression made me want to laugh out loud, but I just smiled and hummed to myself.

"You _bribe_ the lab techs?!"

"Don't make it sound so illicit!" I chided. "It's only food. No money involved." Okay, so it wasn't the most kosher way to go about getting results, but working with Quil had taught me that sometimes being a little underhanded got results far better than staying on the straight and narrow all of the time. A well placed lasagna here, a warm meatloaf there…maybe some baked ziti from time to time….my arsenal from my time in Charlie's kitchen only grew more precious as I realized the power a home cooked meal could have on grown men.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Okay, Soup Kitchen lady. Whatever you say."

"Come on," I said. "We don't want to miss our appointment with Judge Hardaway."

"What—do you feed him, too?" Jacob joked.

I didn't actually, but it didn't stop my partner from nudging me in the ribs with a sly look on his face when we left the office five minutes after we stepped foot in it. Or the grin that slid across his lips when we held the paper copy of Angela's cell phone records after a minimal amount of fuss from the phone store, revealing those heart stopping white teeth.

"So, Swan, I gotta know….how well **do** you get around?" he teased as we slid back into his Mustang.

"Oh my god, shut-up!" I cried, swatting him with the papers. Jacob's mood was infectious and I found myself fighting a losing battle against the grin that threatened to split my face. "Just for that, you get to look last!" I stuck my tongue out in a fit of immaturity.

"Better put that away if you aren't planning on using it," he replied, sounding a little bit husky.

I struggled against blushing as I nervously licked my bottom lip and thrust the papers at Jacob to distract him. The way he was looking at me was making me slightly self conscious.

He snorted. "Thought I got to read last?"

I tossed him a glare through my blush. He grinned and lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug before flipping through the records. I stared at my reflection in the window, willing myself to stop feeling so…girly, all the while remaining so aware of the less than a foot of space between us. Jacob was so much larger than life and his presence could easily make the car feel crowded.

"Bella, look at this…" Jacob's voice had taken on its normal timbre again and I recognized that he was back in work mode.

I turned to the page he held out to me and focused on where his finger was pointing. The last number Angela had dialed the night she died wasn't Ben's, or even 911.

It was Edward Cullen's cell phone.

"_**Now**_ can we talk to Cullen again?" Jacob pushed.

I leaned back in the seat and let out a gusty sigh. "Yeah," I agreed. "Now we talk to Cullen, again."

* * *

**A/N:** _It really does benefit you to review. It helps me to write better and faster (being inspired and all), so you get to read another chapter sooner. Or, yanno…it convinces me to stop clogging up the category with my rubbish writing…whichever._

_Please review._


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: **Seriously, I don't own Twilight.

**A/N:** Oh, the joys of writing oneself into a corner…I realized as I had started writing chapter 4, why I had originally stopped, and it took me longer than I care to admit to figure out a way for this story to work.

I'm still not pleased with this, but it's not getting any better just sitting here and without a Beta, this is as best I can do.

* * *

**9:34am**

We arrived at Cullen's office just after he was due to be in.

Jake paused once we got in the parking garage, though. "I wanna lead this line," he said, referring to our questions. "I know this case is your lead, but…" he paused and seemed to be trying to pick his words carefully. "He already thinks you're the good cop, but we don't need to make him think you're a soft touch. If you're willing to back me on this…"

"Then I can encourage him to answer you without being played?" I finished archly.

To his credit, Jacob didn't squirm and didn't back down from my gaze, though he looked only slightly apologetic. "'Wasn't gonna say—"

"Yes you were," I cut in. I turned to the window and chewed on my lip as I considered it. "But it's not a bad idea," I agreed slowly. I cut my gaze back to my partner to see him looking at me with an odd expression on his face.

I rolled my eyes. "It's not that surprising that I agree with you, Black."

"…right…" he answered distractedly. He shook his head and opened his door. "Come on."

I sighed and followed suit. Maybe I could write a book: _The Many Moods of Jacob Black__._ That'd be worth publishing.

We rode to the top in silence and were greeted to the bustle of all four girls running around again.

Jacob strolled up to the desk and flashed his gun and badge at his hip to the girl at the desk. "We need to talk to Cullen."

I glanced at him in warning for his attitude, but my partner missed it entirely.

The girl barely looked up from her new monitor. The computer must have been the newest thing on the market, leagues past Angela's old model. "He's in a meeting," she replied coolly.

Jacob opened his mouth to say something detrimental no doubt, when I cut him off. "Would you _please _tell him that Detective Swan would like to speak with him about an urgent matter? _**Now**_?" I added in a tone that meant business.

No sooner than the words had left my lips, the door to Cullen's inner office opened then and my breath caught as two of the most gorgeous men in the world stepped out. One was the CEO, himself, the other was an older gentleman who could only have been his father: Doctor Carlisle Cullen—miracle surgeon.

He'd made international news more than once with several high risk surgeries he performed by stopping the patient's heart on the table. Each time his patients came through alive and cured.

Edward looked only slightly startled to see us again, but greeted us with a small smile. "Ah! Detective Swan…Detective Black…" he nodded to each of us then turned back to his father. "These are the officers who are on Angela's case," he explained to the man. Those bright green eyes turned to us once more and made introductions. "Detectives: my father Doctor Carlisle Cullen."

Dr. Cullen extended a hand and a polite smile. "A pleasure," he insisted. He glanced at his son. "I'm glad to know this is being investigated by Seattle's finest."

Edward didn't say anything, but there was sorrow in his face before he quickly schooled his features. "Father, I will see you later."

Doctor Cullen clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course, son. Let us know if there's anything we can do to help." He left and we had Edward's attention again.

I wondered about calling him so familiarly, even in my own head, but rationalized that having met yet another Cullen; it would be easier to differentiate the two by first names. Right?

Edward ushered us into his office and back to where we had tea before. "My father highly respects the Law Enforcement and the work you do," he began conversationally. He sent me a little smile and I felt warm.

Jake got right down to it. "Why didn't you tell us that Angela Weber called you on the night of her death, around the time of her attack?" he demanded.

"Because I missed her call, Detective Black," Edward replied crisply. He softened a breath later. "I don't think I'm ever going to forgive myself for that."

Purposeful or not, there was real conflict on his face as he appeared to try to keep his own grief and self-loathing from showing. I did my best to keep my hands from twitching in attempt to reach out to him.

"Records show she was on the phone long enough to talk to someone," Jake continued. "If you missed her call, did she leave a message?"

"No. If she'd left a message, then I would have been filing a different report and not a Missing Persons, or calling 911."

Instead of conceding the point, my partner shrugged it off. He tilted his head back towards the waiting area.

"Where's the old computer?"

"Hopefully sitting in a rubbish heap somewhere," Edward huffed. "I begged Angela to let me replace that behemoth with something newer, but she had nearly an unholy attachment to the thing. She said it would be a waste of time for me to try to upgrade because then she would have to take forever to learn all the ins and outs of a new model." He shook his head.

"If that's what it took to keep the most efficient woman on the planet happy and running my schedule like a Swiss clock, then I could let the matter lie. But that model was horrendously outdated and bulky. And those young ladies in the waiting room need something they're more familiar with if we have a hope of being as productive as Angela."

"So you just scrapped the thing?" Jacob asked incredulously. "Overnight? Do you know how suspicious that looks?"

"This company is dependent on racing the clock, as it were, Detective Black," Edward said. "We pulled everything from Angela's old computer last night and had a new model this morning."

My partner's eyebrows rose to his hairline and I just knew he was about to say something that could blow this for us. I cleared my throat, gaining both men's attention.

"Including her new projects?"

The CEO froze and I pressed on. "We were told she'd been distracted by a new project at work. What was it?"

There was a slight hesitation before realization dawned in his gorgeous eyes and Edward Cullen shook his head. "_I_ was her only project, technically. She kept my schedule, meeting notes, phone calls and had access to the entire network as a precaution if my personal computer went down."

"Any back-ups?" Jake pressed.

"A few," Mr. Cullen admitted. "Again, as a precaution."

"We'll need copies everything she had on her old computer," Black told him.

After a deep breath, Edward nodded. "I will give you what I can, of course…but there are government contracts that I'm not at liberty to share." He turned his gaze to me in a silent plea for me to understand.

My heart skipped a beat. "We need everything you can give us, Mr. Cullen," I breathed. "Anything that can help us solve Angela's murder."

A tiny frown appeared on his face at that and I wanted to smooth it away.

"Do we need a warrant for the rest?" Jake asked in an arch tone.

"I should think a subpoena shall do, Detective," the other man returned.

I could tell Edward offering advice on how to conduct his job was making Black bristle, so I hurriedly thanked the CEO for his extra time and hustled my partner out of there.

"You can't tell me that whole thing wasn't sketchy!" he demanded as we got back in the car. "Scrapping the old model barely a day after the vic's dead, withholding files, missing a call the night she died?!"

"Okay, it's sketchy," I agreed irritably.

I'd noticed that Edward had been choosing his words carefully and my stomach had sunk when I realized he probably had something to hide. I knew logically that Jacob was correct about everyone being a suspect, but a very feminine part of me had held out a little hope for the devastatingly beautiful Edward Cullen.

"We'll get a warrant and come back to get the files."

"And his phone," Jacob added. "I don't trust him about that call. Something's not sittin' right with me on that," he added at my questioning glance.

I worried my bottom lip as I mentally replayed that part of the conversation. "I dunno…I think he might be telling the truth on that."

"You kidding? This is like, prime opportunity for you to get his phone number and you're not jumping at the chance?"

He may have been teasing, but his voice was a little too incredulous for my liking. "Stuff it, Black," I snapped. 

**10:40am**

Angela's parents, Rev. and Mrs. Weber, were waiting at the station for us when we arrived and after a brief but tearful interview, I could safely conclude that there were no personal grudges anyone seemed to have for their daughter that they knew of.

"That was bust," Jake sighed after they left, but it wasn't unkind. Even he hadn't been unaffected by the obvious heartache of Angela's parents.

I said nothing as I finished typing up the warrant. Contrary to what Mr. Cullen seemed to think, a warrant was the means we would have to use to obtain all the files on Angela's computer…and his phone.

"You got any siblings, Swan?" Jake asked casually.

I knew where his thoughts lay. The Webers had shown us a picture of their family when we had talked to them. Angela had been the older sister of twin boys and had been captured with an arm around each brother with a beaming smile.

"No," I told him. "I'm an only child." Though sometimes dealing with my mother had made me feel that I had a younger sister. "You?"

"Yeah," Jake said. "Twin sisters. Older." He huffed a laugh, caught up in a memory. "They used to try to dress me up in their clothes. I must've been the only boy on the rez wearing a bedazzled jean jacket and jelly shoes."

I smiled at the mental picture he painted. Jake was a large man with a dominant demeanor to match. It was hard to picture him getting bullied into anything, but thought of him in girls' clothes was amusing.

I glanced at the clock on my computer and frowned. Judge Hardaway presided over court during this time and wouldn't be out for another few hours. I scanned my mental rolodex to see who else I could get to sign off on the warrant and came up empty. All the judges I knew were either busy or unlikely to do me the "favor" of giving me their signature because I didn't play their games. I hated politics.

Still, I wasn't completely done with my bag of tricks…

I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled through my contacts. "How do you feel about early lunch, Black?" 

**11:29am**

"I think it's safe to say I did not peg you for this kinda place," Jacob said as we pulled into the diner.

I say diner, but the place was more a greasy spoon than a decent dining establishment. I fought not to wrinkle my nose at it and exited the car.

"Don't know why you stopped by ATM," he continued. "There can't be anything on the menu more than six or seven bucks."

We both knew that he had to be joking. No one could make detective without connecting the dots. And it was pretty obvious that this was not my first pick to eat. We were here for me to meet a source of mine.

"You want me to sit at the counter?" Jacob muttered as we walked in.

"Please," replied gratefully, spotting my target. "Jazz spooks easily."

"Jazz?" Jake repeated. I could hear the amusement in his voice.

I rolled my eyes and fished out a twenty. "Go eat."

Jacob plucked the bill out of my hand and picked a spot at the far end of the counter while I made my way to a booth in the opposite corner, where my contact sat. We probably weren't more than 30 feet apart, but the diner was tiny.

Jazz appeared to be enjoying a cup of coffee and reading some kind of book on the Civil War, but I wasn't fooled for a second. His eyes had probably been on me since we stepped out of the car.

I slid into the booth. "Hey, Jazz."

He inclined his head in greeting. "Swan."

As it always did, Jasper Hale's Texas twang made me want to madly dial Rosalie with the news that I had mysteriously found her missing twin, who had disappeared since finishing from Cornell. It hadn't been too hard to figure out who he was giving the obvious physical similarities both of them bore, plus the accent and the last name kind of gave it away. I never told Jasper who my roommate in college was. As much as I would love to be able to spark a family reunion for one of my good friends, I respected Jasper's obvious desire to get away from his past—whatever it was. He was too good a source for me to just give him up.

He smirked as he set aside his book. "New partner, I see."

"What makes you think he's my new partner?" I quizzed.

"Besides the fact he was basically body crowding you the second you got in the door? Or the set of your shoulders like you think he's watching you? He is, by the way, but he's a little better at being subtle than you are, I think."

I struggled not to fidget and glared at his knowing look. "I never brought anyone before," I pointed out.

"Exactly. Either your old partner knew well enough to leave you alone or didn't care. Newbie might not know any better or won't let you out of his sight."

I narrowed my eyes at his reasoning, but gave him that. I waived away the waitress that came to check on us and got down to business. "I need to know if you've heard of a new super-drug on or off the market."

"You know I don't deal, Swan," Jazz said with a shrug. He sipped his coffee.

"You're the go-to guy, aren't you?" I challenged.

Once of the reasons Jasper had never been charged or convicted was the fact that he was a third-party player. He only set up the connection for contacts, never having to touch any of the merchandise while still being able to make a profit for his finder's fee.

"Come on, Jazz," I needled.

It wasn't a whine, but there was just _something_ about the blond man that made me think of him as an older brother, sometimes, even though he was my age and an informant who wasn't aware of my personal relationship with his sister.

To combat the familiarity, he just _**looked**_ at me and I sighed in disgust as I forked over a wad of cash that amounted to a month's rent. I hated it but Jasper Hale never did anything for free.

"You're gonna have to be more specific," he answered, calmly pocketing the cash.

I slid the folder I had brought with me across the table and watched as the laid back demeanor he wore slid off his face for a look of surprise. He whistled lowly. "So this isn't just the streets," he gleaned, studying the copy of the report Roger had given us.

"No," I agreed. "Whatever you can find and wherever you can find it," I charged.

He bobbed his head once. "I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Jazz." I left him to his book and joined Jake at the counter.

He was enjoying a greasy burger and a ridiculous amount of fries. "Got what you need?"

"I will," I told him.

Jacob nodded and slid a laminated menu to me. "Whadda want?"

_ How about some hand sanitizer?_

**7:14pm**

We finally got Judge Hardaway to sign the warrant, and even though Edward Cullen was out of the office (which annoyed Jake to no end, I'm sure); I let my partner have his fun by rubbing it in the faces of the girls. I knew it was petty, but I hadn't cared for them one bit and Jake was easier to deal with when he was in a good mood.

The files, however, didn't seem to be anything special and I felt we had hit a dead end. I sighed.

Quil and Embry came back to their desks from wherever they had been for the day and looked to be headed home soon.

"So!" Quil said brightly, as he rubbed his hands together. "Claire's birthday tonight…"

It took a second for me to process that he was addressing me and my eyes flew to the calendar on my desk, where a cheerful little red square reminded me that I had promised to attend tonight's festivities. "Quil," I groaned.

"Nuh-uh, Bella," he interrupted. The firm tone in his voice stopped me from arguing. "You promised me _and _Claire you'd be there and she's been cackling all week how she's gonna get 'Straight-laced-Swan' smashed off her ass." He was amused at that, but it was clear how serious Quil was. He did everything in his power to keep his girlfriend happy.

I could feel the weight of Jacob's interested gaze and did my best to ignore that he was there. "That was **one** time, Quil," I pointed out. "And we weren't in the middle of a case."

"Are you really gonna let the birthday girl down?" Quil wasn't pulling any punches. He _knew_ how much I hated disappointing anyone I'd given my word to.

"Fine," I huffed. "But, I'm probably gonna be there late."

"It's all good. Party doesn't start swinging 'til ten. We've got a reservation on the mezz at Trinity. You come too, Black. Come see how your partner can shake her thang."

"Really…." Jacob drawled, sounding way too interested.

I felt myself growing hot. "I am **not** dancing, Quil."

"That wasn't the story last time, Swan," Embry jeered.

"Shut it, Call."

"Sure, sure," Jacob answered easily, as he appraised me in a way that had my stomach start sprouting butterflies. "I've got nothing else tonight."

Terrific. 

**9:40pm**

I dug aggravatedly through my closet for something-anything-to wear for tonight. It was a hopeless task. I wasn't much into the social scene of Seattle and I certainly wasn't a club-goer, a fact painfully reflected by my wardrobe. I sighed. I didn't even begin to have an idea of what was acceptable to wear to this kind of party. There was nothing for it; I was going to have to call my best friend Alice-a Buyer for several exclusive boutiques and the fashion expert of my life.

"Bella!" Alice cried after only one ring. Her voice dropped into a conspiratorial whisper. "Who, what, when and where?"

"Hello, Alice," I intoned. I had long ago gotten used to her uncanny ability to discern whether I had called to just talk or dial for a fashion emergency.

"Sweetheart, are we facing a time limit?" Alice prodded in a chiding sort of tone. Small talk and social pleasantries were wasted on my best friend if there was a 'victim' in need of Alice's help.

I rolled my eyes and cited the info. "Quil's girlfriend, Claire, is having her birthday at the Trinity. I'm joining the party late."

"Claire: the girlfriend in college?"

"Yeah." I heard Alice's humming over the phone as she probably flipped through a filed index of every article of clothing I owned.

"Let's do that red knotted blouse and dark washed skinny jeans you've got. Pair it with that black corduroy jacket you love and those cork wedge heels I bought you."

Forced on me, was more like. "Those heels are uncomfortable Alice," I half whined, as I eyed my closet for something more comfortable. I spotted my silver ballet flats….

"Bella, don't you dare think about wearing those silver flats. You'll ruin the look." Crap, she was good.

"What look?" I challenged.

"The effortlessly-classy-but-casually-sexy-look," she retorted. "Those flats will not do you any justice in skinny jeans. Also, no headbands or ponytails. Just clip some of your front strands back and curl the ends."

Ugh. I wasn't sure how much I cared for this 'look' that Alice had probably just named out of the blue and I really didn't like how Nazish she got about my appearance. But I couldn't deny that her touch had me looking….well, less like me and more like someone who actually got a date more than once or twice a year.

"Fine….we need to get together soon so I can tell you all about the new man in my life."

Like Pavlov's dogs, I could hear her visibly perk up. "What? New man?"

I grinned evilly, even though she couldn't see it. "Oh look, I've got to go! Bye, Alice!" I gleefully called as I hung up over her cry of "Bella!"

That was for the shoes... 

**10:35pm**

The music was already pumping and the club was beginning to look packed when I stepped inside the main room.

"Swan!" I heard Call's voice over the din of the crowd. He reached my side a second later, holding three beers. "You clean up nice."

"Thanks," I drawled, eyeing his handful. "Are you drinking all of those yourself?"

Em laughed. "Takes more than a couple beers to knock me down, light-weight," he teased. "But it's easier than going back to the bar for every bottle. Come on, party girl's upstairs."

I followed my old partner up to the mezz, which had been blocked off for our private party.

"Bella!" Claire cried as she tossed her arms around me.

"Happy Birthday, Claire," I greeted as I returned the hug.

"Thanks! We're doing shots," she said matter-of-factly.

"Claire…" But she was already handing me a glowing vial and holding one up for herself.

"Happy birthday to me!" She tapped her plastic tube into mine and knocked back her shot.

I braced myself and followed suit with trepidation. I had no need to worry though, as the drink went down smoothly with a slightly minty aftertaste at the back of my tongue. "Do I want to know what was in those?"

"Probably not." The birthday girl led me over to a couch where Quil, Embry and several college aged kids were sitting. After everyone had been introduced Claire plopped down in Quil's lap and people shifted around so that I ended up between Embry and a boy named Seth.

After a few minutes of small talk, I was informed by Claire that all the girls were going down to group dance so the DJ could announce the birthday girl in the house. I glared at Quil's grin and began quietly plotting my escape to the ladies' room. The wedges Alice had me wear were fine on my feet as long I moved as little as possible and stayed sober. Otherwise, all bets were off and no amount of straps would keep me upright.

I was just about to make my excuse when Quil's greeting diverted my attention. "Jake, man, you made it!"

Handshakes went around as Jacob greeted the guys. He had traded his white button down for a black one (ha ha) and a pair of fitted jeans. The black leather jacket made him look like the stereotypical bad boy, but it made him look incredibly appealing.

I frowned internally at that and stood to make good on my retreat but Jake's gaze caught mine.

"Bella…"

Perhaps the alcohol was starting to kick in because I could have sworn that my name rolled off his tongue like dark chocolate. The butterflies were making a reappearance at the way he was looking at me. And then suddenly, Jake grinned, pulling the cocky card I was already familiar with. "Lookin' good, Swan."

I wasn't really positive about the best way to reply to that as a blush bloomed across my cheeks. Complimenting him back would undoubtedly give the man an even bigger ego. And that expression on his face made a little nervous for reasons I didn't care to examine too closely.

Thankfully I was saved from saying anything when Seth greeted my partner like an old friend. Apparently they were, I found out a second later as the two reunited.

Quietly I leaned over to Embry. "I'm gonna go powder my nose," I whispered.

He smirked. "Should I tell the girls to wait for you?"

"Don't you dare!" I hissed.

Embry's smirk grew, but I knew he'd cover for me. "You wanna leave your jacket here so they don't think you actually took off?"

He had a good point, but I was hesitant to relinquish the corduroy.

"You gotta be hot in that, anyways," he pointed out.

With a sigh, I shedded the jacket and left it with Call. "Don't you dare spill anything on it."

I left Embry sputtering behind me as I left and fought to keep my shoulders from twitching.

The red knotted blouse that Alice had presented me with was a gorgeous shade that made even my pasty skin look not quite so washed out. It had a demure keyhole in the front and crossed halter neck. I'd been pleasantly surprised at the simplicity of it when I first saw it, until Alice turned the thing around….my cute little blouse had barely any back to speak of and was the very reason I had brought my jacket. My hair was longish, but not long enough to cover the huge expanse of skin I presented in the shirt.

I made my way carefully down the stairs but instead of making my way to the restroom, my feet for some reason wandered in the direction of the bar. It wasn't packed and I picked a spot to be waited on. A few moments later, a strawberry daiquiri was in my hand. I sipped on it quietly until a voice spoke up behind me.

"This doesn't look like the restroom to me."

I jumped at how close Black sounded next to my ear and turned to see my partner with a smirk on his face.

"Now you're spying on me?" I joked, trying my best to ignore the way Jacob's eyes roved over my form. I noticed he was taking in the height difference before glancing at my feet.

He shrugged. "Call was starting to get worried when you didn't return. I just happened to be down here for a drink." He flagged down a bartender and ordered a whiskey drink over my shoulder, before returning to our conversation. "You hidin' from the birthday girl?"

"Claire wanted to dance and I don't dance," I told him. I knew it was ridiculous about how defensive I was about this, but I had no intention of making a fool out of myself.

Jake got his drink and downed in one gulp, before flashing those impossibly white teeth and turning on the charm. "That's just because you've never had the right partner."

I rolled my eyes. How many times had I heard that one? I felt Jake's hand on my arm.

"Come on," he said.

"Jacob!" I cried. "I don't. Dance."

He laughed and I could feel the rumble in his chest. "It's just Jake," he corrected. "And whose toes are you worried about—yours or mine?" He guided the straw of my drink back to my mouth. "Come on, one more big sip for courage."

I couldn't believe I was allowing this, but I did as bade and then my partner set my daiquiri on the bar before leading me to the dance floor.

The sound was louder here, despite the crush of bodies, but Jake kept me close to his larger frame as he navigated through the throng. Once he found a spot to his liking, he pulled me closer to him and spun me around so that he now stood behind me.

"Jake," I warned. I had to shout to even hear my own voice.

"Relax, Bella," he laughed. "Have a little trust in your partner. I'm not gonna let you fall."

That wasn't exactly what I was worried about at this point….

"Feel the beat?"

I nodded. The bass was pounding through my chest.

"Ya gotta let it move, you, Bells."

_ Bells?_

Jake's hand slid to my hips moving them from side to side in time with the beat. My face was on fire at the warmth of his palms, but I followed his instruction, trying to make my body less stiff in its movement.

"Good," he praised, once I'd got the rocking motion down. "Now step forward…" he pressed his right leg so close to the back of mine, that I was forced to move my own appendage as directed. I wobbled for a split second as my gait wasn't even for it, but Jake steadied me, chuckling. "I thought you've done this before?"

"I told you I don't dance!" I tossed back.

The lesson resumed and even though the music was loud and the bass was beating through my body and my incredibly good looking and _great smelling_ partner was pressed a little too intimately behind me, I began to loosen up and get into the music as he intended.

"You got it, Swan!" Jake cheered as I successfully completed the instruction. He spun me around and gathered me close. "Now you can dance!"

I should have protested, but the incredible amount of heat the man was producing made me just want to cuddle into him, or arch into the large sure hand gliding down my very exposed back. And Jacob's smile was all sunshine and good feelings in his enthusiasm.

_'Careful, Swan…'_

Thankfully the song ended, though Jacob was slow to release me. I can't honestly say I wanted to leave his warmth immediately, either.

"Now you don't have any excuses for Claire," he teased, indicating to the mezzanine where Quil and his girlfriend were watching us like hawks.

"You play dirty, Jacob Black!"

"Don't forget it!" he laughed.

We headed back to the bar for another round for Jake and a fresh daiquiri for me. I gave him a look as the glass was set in front of me.

"I shouldn't…"

"Come on, Bells! Everyone knows booze makes you a better dancer!"

I rolled my eyes but took a sip of the cold concoction and watched as my partner talked to the bartender about a round of shots for the crew upstairs.

"Tell me a pretty lady like yourself isn't alone at a place like this," another voice came from behind me.

I turned to see some guy with blond hair, blue eyes and a baby face, leaning against the bar, trying to look cool.

"I'm, uh…not," I replied flustered.

The blond offered a crooked smile which was charming in its own little boy way. "What a shame. Mike Newton." He offered a hand.

Not wanting to seem rude, I took it. "Bella Swan."

Mike smiled wider. "Think your date'll let me take you out on the floor for a spin?" he asked, nodding to Jake at my side.

"He's not my date," I replied. "And I don't dance."

"I just saw you out on the floor," Mike said.

I turned peered over my shoulder at my partner, who was not facing us, but I had no doubt that he was eavesdropping. "That was…a one-time kinda thing, sorry," I told the kid. I could help but think he was some young college kid out to pick up a one night stand to impress his friends with.

Mike's face fell. "Oh. Well, if you change your mind…."

"Thanks…" Moving off with my drink, I headed back towards the stairs. I could feel Black behind me.

"Thanks for helping," I said sarcastically.

"Hey, you had it well in hand, Swan," he chuckled. "Very smooth."

I hoped he'd tripped with the drinks.

Nearly an hour later, I was ready to call it quits for the night. The alcohol had buzzed through my system, but I felt safe enough to pay my tab and get a taxi home. I wasn't quite so sure about the stairs, though as I eyed them warily.

"Need help down?" Jake asked from his spot next to me on the couch.

I sighed. "Probably," I answered truthfully. "I'm bound to twist my ankle in these shoes at this point.

He stood. "Come on, I'll help you down. I gotta take a leak anyways."

After saying goodnight to the boys and Claire, Jake and I made our way carefully down the metal grating steps with his hand on my elbow and mine griping the stair rail for dear life. We parted ways at the bottom.

I signaled for my tab when I got to the bar, but I had to wait before they could get to me. Unfortunately that gave Mike prime opportunity to strike again.

"So you were with that party upstairs, huh?" he began as he sidled next to me.

"Yeah."

"Looks like a good crowd," he noted, glancing back at the mezz. "Must've been a big deal."

"It was a friend's birthday," I explained, trying to keep the answers short and my eyes on the folks behind the bar.

Mike however, didn't seem to be getting the hint and nodded to carry on the conversation. "Celebrations. That's cool. We're celebrating too. My buddy just got this fat check for his mad skills with computers for Cullen Pharmaceuticals."

I froze. "Cullen Pharmaceuticals?" I parroted.

Mike nodded at my sudden interest. "Yeah. He just did this crazy work for some CEO's computer or something."

"Is he still here—your friend?" I pressed.

My companion looked a little taken aback and then affronted, but he answered me anyways. "Eric? Yeah he's still here."

"Can I talk to him?" I asked sweetly. "I…really like computers."

A shadow passed over his face, but Mike eventually began scanning the club for his friend. "Lemme go see if I can find him," he sighed, when it became apparent that his friend wasn't in sight.

"I'll wait here," I offered.

He shook his head but went off in search.

Jacob returned from the restroom. "Didn't think you were still gonna be here," he said.

"I think we might have a lead on that computer!" I told him excitedly.

He straightened. "Angela Weber's computer?"

I nodded and licked my lips. "Remember the guy that was hitting on me earlier?"

"The baby faced blond boy."

"Yeah! He said he and his friend are celebrating a huge pay check his friend got for computer work for 'some CEO's computer'." I turned out to the crowd to keep watch for Mike and his friend.

There was a rumpus on the dance floor and people were clustering together weirdly.

Jake and I took one look at each other and headed to the floor. The music was still playing but people had stopped dancing and were circled around Mike, who was on all fours and vomiting.

My partner immediately took charge. "Seattle PD," he told the people at large as we pushed through. "Back up, give him some room!"

I went to Mike's side.

"What's going on?" Jacob asked, all business.

The sick kid looked up, pale and shaky. "Eric," he said. "Eric Yorkie's dead in the alley."

* * *

**_Please Review._**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER:** Where I come from people who sparkle in the sunlight are usually called fairies; not vampires. And werewolves rarely look like they could do their own calendar shoots. Thus, I do not own _Twilight_ or any of its characters. Nor do I own any extra stories I may reference.

**A/N:** I did not quite intend to go this long in between posts, but the chapter was being as uncooperative as my RL schedule for writing. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this next part.

* * *

_There was a rumpus on the dance floor and people were clustering together weirdly._

_Jake and I took one look at each other and headed to the floor. The music was still playing but people had stopped dancing and were circled around Mike, who was on all fours and vomiting._

_My partner immediately took charge. "Seattle PD," he told the people at large as we pushed through. "Back up, give him some room!"_

_I went to Mike's side._

"_What's going on?" Jacob asked, all business._

_The sick kid looked up, pale and shaky. "Eric," he said. "Eric Yorkie's dead in the alley."_

**12:37am**

With Mike Newton's pronouncement, the party was officially over.

Whatever buzz I had left in my system disappeared as my partner and I shared a look before we were backed up by Call and Atera, looking just as serious and giving us more space.

Black was all business as whipped out his cell to call the Uni's.

"Seal the exits," I told Quil. "Nobody leaves until we get back-up." I looked to Em. "Find whoever's in charge here, and let 'em know." They nodded as Jake hung up.

"Swan, you good to help your boy clean up?" Mike's hand had reached out to grip my arm at the question and I nodded an affirmative.

"Good. I'm gonna go check on the body."

"Be careful," I warned.

He dipped his chin. "I got it."

I helped Mike off his hands and knees and steered him to the washroom. When he was done, I escorted him to the bar where Embry was still talking to the bartender and a surly looking manager. After making sure that Newton had someone to keep an eye on him I went to meet my partner outside.

"Oh…" I breathed, taking in the damage.

Jacob shrugged. "This? Looks better than the Weber girl. Your kid's a marshmallow," he muttered caustically.

Eric Yorkie's death didn't look nearly as messy as Angela's had, but he'd been unquestionably murdered. His neck had been snapped with such force that had the skin not still been intact, I had little doubt the head would have been rolling around on the ground. His right shoulder was nearly shredded and shining with the still recent blood along with the scratches that ran in a diagonal row across his face.

I glared at Black, rebuke ready to fly from my mouth at his callousness. Mike was not a cop and had probably never seen a freshly dead body in real life—and hopefully not one he knew personally. Even I was trying to ignore the slight turn my stomach was trying to take at the grotesque sight.

My partner seemed to catch himself before I could though and turned to me, frowning. "Sorry," he offered in a quiet distracted way, eyes flicking to me only for a moment before returning to the victim. "That was uncalled for."

"Yeah," I gritted out, but it did seem like he was genuine in his apology. Still, I figured I'd be the one leading the questioning for this.

Silence fell between us as we both took our time cataloging the scene.

After a moment, Jake sighed and motioned to the kid in front of us. "This was the guy you were wanting to talk with?" he asked.

"I think so," I replied. Newton didn't say who his friend was, but the dots were pretty easy to connect.

"Great," my partner huffed.

We took preliminary note of the scene while we waited for CSU. The alley was dark and smelled of the trash in the large dumpster near the back door. Jake already had a keychain flashlight in his hand and swept it around.

"We'll talk to the manager about the camera," he said, shining the light over the door, where a small hole and a few glints of copper testified to the previous existence of security measures. "Whoever killed our vic might've taken the evidence with him."

At the sound of someone else approaching, we both turned to see Quil looking somber. "Soon as Claire can make her statement, I'm gonna take her home." He gave the body a once-over and I knew how upset he was by his lack of reaction. Quil was rarely flip at a scene, but he always had some sort of response to any body-drop our team had been called to over the years.

It had barely been thirty minutes since I had been ready to leave, but the party seemed like ages ago. "Tell Claire I am _so_ sorry this had to happen tonight," I said.

He gave me a shadow of a grin. "You can't take the blame for this one, Swan."

That didn't mean that I didn't feel bad that her night had gotten ruined, but I let my old partner have the last word on that.

Thankfully it didn't take long for official back-up to arrive after that and we handed off the scene (with more than a little relief on my part).

"C'mon," Jake said. "Let's go talk to your bar buddy."

I nodded and led him back inside where Embry was still keeping tabs on Newton, who had amassed a small group at the bar. Two girls—a brunette and a blonde with an unfortunate haircut-and another boy surrounded Mike, trying to comfort him. They looked up as we approached.

I flashed my badge. "I'm Detective Swan, this is Detective Black," I introduced.

Mike's voice was hoarse when he spoke, but the shock was audible. "You're a _cop_?"

I nodded and ignored one of the girl's snort. "My partner and I believe that your friend may have had information regarding an ongoing investigation. Was Eric Yorkie the computer guy you told me you were gonna go look for?"

He nodded.

"Did Eric mention anything about the work he had done for Cullen Pharmaceuticals? Anything about the computer?"

The four of them looked to each other before the other young man answered. "Naw, man, he made a big deal about how he had to sign some kinda contract that swore him to secrecy and he couldn't tell us anything."

I caught my partner's raised brow.

"Didn't stop him from going on and on about how important it was," the girl who snorted muttered. When she realized that we had heard her, she merely rolled her eyes and elaborated. "Like he was bragging, yanno? Or, at least trying to. I mean, great that he got a great gig that paid really well, and all, but if you can't talk about it, then stop being a try-hard." The other three turned to stare at her. "Lauren!" the other young man chided.

Lauren flushed at being called out, but shrugged. "What?" she said defensively. "He was! Every other sentence out of his mouth was—"

"Lauren!" Mike snapped, slamming his hand on the bar. "Eric just died. Have some fucking respect."

"I'm just answering the officer's question!"

"Well, you're sounding like a bitch," he tossed back.

A quick glance at Jake revealed just a tiny hint of a smirk and I cleared my throat to get the focus back to the line of questioning. "Did Eric have any enemies? Anyone he'd recently upset?"

"No," Mike said, throwing a warning glare at Lauren before sliding his gaze back to me. His eyes were red and suspiciously shiny. "Eric…didn't have a big circle of um….I mean, we're roomies, so I uh…I mean, we weren't really _close_, but you know…"

"You get to know a person, living with them?" I offered.

"Yeah."

"Do you know what he was doing in the alley?"

There were a number of shifty looks being thrown around at that, a couple targeting the blonde. At our pointed stare, she merely shrugged. "I have no clue what Eric was doing in the alley. Honestly, I thought he was in the bathroom or something."

The other girl, a brunette spoke up. "He might've been looking to score," she said hesitantly.

"Drugs or girls?"

"…drugs…"

"What was his poison?"

There was another extended silence, before the guy next to Mike answered. "E."

"Nothing harder?" I pressed, as the lab report floated through my mind.

"Eric didn't do drugs. He doesn't even smoke pot," Mike replied.

"So why was he trying to score?" My eyes flicked back to the girls. The poor kid had probably been sent on the search like an errand-runner.

There was a long and uneasy silence, nearly confirming my theory. We let it drop, though, as it was apparent that with Yorkie dead, they hadn't actually gotten their hands on anything.

"How did you know to check the alley?" my partner asked him, continuing on.

"I dunno. He wasn't in the bathroom and I didn't see him on the floor, I figured I'd check outside."

"Did any of you see Eric talking to anyone on the floor or at the bar?"

The group collectively shook their head. "He was with us at the table until he left. We didn't see him again after that."

"How long would you say it'd been since he left and you guys found out?" Jake quizzed.

Lauren looked thoughtful. "Mmm…about half an hour, maybe a little more?"

We had them stick around to leave statements with an officer and moved over to Embry who had finished up with his questioning.

"So the manager's got cameras, but no tapes," Em reported.

"Fuckin' perfect," Jake sighed quietly. "We got a missing cam over the door to the alley. Looks like our perp took it with him."

"Do you think that whoever did it knew there weren't any tapes?" I wondered aloud. "I mean why take the camera and not the rest of the recording equipment?"

The boys turned to regard me. "You think it's someone from here?" Embry asked.

I chewed my lip. "I don't know. We'll have to wait for CSUs to finish before we can say one way or another."

"Looks like you're in for a pleasant weekend," he teased.

I groaned. "Don't remind me." 

**6:00am**

Coming in at six am on a Saturday was not really what I wanted to be doing with my time, but cases didn't stop because of the weekend, so I armed myself with a thermos of black tea and hit my desk, determined to power through.

Jake came in a few minutes later as I was rereading the statements taken last night while my computer booted up. "Jake," I greeted.

"Bella," he returned in kind before making his opening move. "Cullen."

"It's Bella _Swan_, actually," I told him mildly. "But good try."

I could tell I hit my mark by the mock glare my partner tossed me as he snatched up his skeezy coffee mug. "Smartass." For some reason that sparked my amusement and I smirked as he stomped over to the break room for coffee.

"You know we gotta talk to him," he began as he returned. "I don't like how everything keeps coming back to him." The _'and how you keep ignoring it,'_ part went unsaid, but it lingered just the same.

I narrowed my eyes at my partner. "You just don't like him," I returned.

The man across from me, shrugged, not bothering to deny it. "There's something about him that just…isn't right. Like he's too perfect."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you have something against manners, Black?"

He raised his eyebrows over his mug, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. "Is that a dig at me?" Jake continued, anyways. "I've got something against shady suspects, _Swan_," he volleyed back. "And the prime one at that."

I mentally sighed. I hadn't been in a circle argument this continuous since Renee had still been alive. The worst part of it was who I was arguing against. Jake was supposed to be my partner, but had spent the entirety of the case disagreeing with me, and it wouldn't be so frustrating if every other sentence out of his mouth wasn't something that made me actually like the guy. He was reminding me too much of the boys, not to. If only we could work as well together…

Black set the coffee down, suddenly all business. "When do we leave? We need to talk to him soon." 

**6:36am**

Much to his disconcertion, we did stop by Angela's apartment on the way. Ben had called, wanting to show us something. The place was in the process of being packed up. Ben didn't look much better, but at least he didn't smell of beer.

"I found these in…uh Ange's journal," he explained, handing over a few loose sheets of journal paper.

They had what appeared to be an attempt at code-breaking and a few charts of linear progression. I couldn't make much of it, and neither could Jake, but I'm sure Rodger might be more helpful. I made a note to stop by the store for extra ingredients for a night's worth of baking.

"She kept a notebook by the bed, like a journal…everything else was normal stuff, her thoughts, private…" Ben trailed off. "Anyways, these were the only pages that looked different. I don't know if they help, but…"

"We'll look into it," I promised. "And let you know."

He nodded. "Any news on her ring?"

"Not yet," I sighed. "I'm sorry. I'll call as soon as we hear."

"Yeah," he agreed dejectedly. 

**7:05am**

Jake pounded heavily on the door of the penthouse. Despite the fact it was the only apartment on the floor, I couldn't help but inwardly cringe at the racket and looked around, for some reason half expecting an elderly woman in her bathrobe and curlers to be peering out of another apartment with a frown.

Instead, the woman actually opened the door we stood in front of, and while she was wearing a cleaning uniform and not a bathrobe (or curlers), she was still frowning at us. "Mercy! What on earth…at this hour?" she was muttering.

"Seattle PD," Jake introduced as we flashed our badges. "We need to talk with Cullen, is he in?" he asked, scanning what he could of the penthouse over the woman's shoulder.

"Who is it, Hannah?" I could hear Edward's voice before he came into view, wearing a housecoat and slippers and looking adorably rumpled. His eyes widened at the sight of us. "Detectives!" A hand fluttered up to his hair in an attempt to manage it. It was a boyish move, no doubt, and I felt a familiar fluttering in my chest. "It's alright, Hannah. Let them in," he told the housekeeper who was still frowning at us.

"This is certainly unexpected," Edward greeted us, as we moved further into the apartment. "May I offer you some tea? I was just about to sit to breakfast."

"There was murder at the Trinity last night," Jake said, completely ignoring the offer and diving right in before I could open my mouth. "Eric Yorkie: you know him?"

Cullen stared at us for a minute, before replying. "I believe so."

"He did some computer work for you, didn't he? Wiped Angela Weber's computer," my partner continued. "And we found him dead in an alley not even forty-eight hours later, just conveniently before we had a chance to interrogate him."

The color drained from the CEO and I fought with the instinct to console him. "You don't think I did it?" he asked needlessly.

"Where were you last night between eleven at two this morning?" I asked, drawing his attention to me.

Edward ran a hand through his brassy colored hair. "I was at the office until midnight and then I came straight home," he recited. "Rodney will confirm the time I left. My GPS can show you my last recorded route, as you know," he added as he locked gazes with the other man. Jake had already demanded to see it for the first alibi. "I've been here since then. "

"Alone, until your housekeeper came in at six?" Jake drawled, repeating the last part of the first alibi.

Cullen seemed ready to argue, his beautiful eyes flashing defiantly. But as he drew in breath to retort, he quickly lost his fight and sighed resignedly. "Yes."

My partner, however, smirked and looked prepared to tear into him.

I made a snap decision and laid a hand on Jacob Black's arm to forestall him. "I've got this," I said. "You go talk to the housekeeper, Hannah?" I glanced to our suspect and saw the minute relief. He nodded encouragingly as I confirmed the woman's name. My eyes shot back to the man beside me. Anger and defiance were clear to me, though his face appeared blank. I held firm and returned his expression with one of my own: part stern, part pleading. I gave him the tiniest of squeezes for good measure and after a beat he nodded and at the direction of Cullen, headed to the kitchen.

There was a soft sigh and I turned to regard the only other occupant in the room. He thanked me with a smile and I fought to keep my breathing regular. "You have to know how this looks," I began before he could speak again.

The smile slid off his face and I privately mourned its loss. "Yes. Believe me, Detective Swan, I do." He turned and led me further in the apartment, where a gorgeous cherry wood dinning set held an obvious set up for breakfast. A matching sideboard boasted another tea service similar to the one in his office and he poured two cups of tea, and to my delighted surprise, the amount of sugar I preferred. I felt butterflies in my stomach at the thought that he'd remembered, but tamped them down and remained professional.

"Then?" I prompted, accepting the silent cup and saucer.

A look of sadness passed over his features as he sipped from his own cup. "While Eric Yorkie's death is regrettable, I am not your man." He turned wary eyes to me and I was struck by the emotion revealed in them as the light hit him just so. "Do you believe that?"

I told him the truth. "I don't think you personally murdered Yorkie, Mr. Cullen." I did my best to ignore how the relaxed slump of his shoulders made me feel and pressed on. "But I have noticed your way with words."

He regarded me with an open curiosity that made him seem almost boyish, as I let my meaning linger. Any decent cop understood how carefully suspects phrased things.

Edward's expression was doing strange things to my insides so I took a sip from my cup and enjoyed the flavor of English Breakfast tea as I waited for him to make his move. "And certain word orders can cover up a secret or make a lie seem like the truth." I set my drink carefully on the table and looked straight at him. "And judging by your tone, I'm wondering who you're trying to convince?" After a moment of him silently staring at me as if he was trying to decipher a puzzle, I took a step forward. "What was it that Eric Yorkie and Angela Weber knew that caused them to be murdered, Edward?"

His first name came out without my permission, and I felt my heart rate speed up at the sight of his eyes dilating at my unintentional slip.

"Nothing," he insisted, shaking his head. "Bella, I _swear_ to you, they knew nothing."

Oh, how badly I wanted to believe him, to hold him and erase the obvious distraughtness from his face. But contrary to Jake's belief, I was completely able to do my job despite my feelings. I took another step forward. "Then, work with me here. What connected them? Because this is a heck of a coincidence. And the only thing Eric and Angela seem to have in common is you and her computer."

He opened his mouth to speak, to say what, I didn't know, but suddenly it clicked into place. "It was the files Angela kept as backup, wasn't it?" I looked up to see him startled at my revelation. "You just told me that those two knew nothing. They either probably didn't really look at the files or didn't know what they were looking at."

He released a long breath through his nose.

I took a chance on another step closer and reached towards him. I let my voice go soft. "What were they looking at?"

"Incomplete experiments. Old files."

"Like testing super-drugs?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."

I blinked in surprise. "Not at liberty?" This sounded like a gag-order. "What are you at liberty to discuss then? Because, your alibi isn't the tightest, Dr. Cullen, and unless you can give us something solid, it looks like you're going to be charged for two murders." I braced myself against his crestfallen expression as best I could. I didn't think he did it, but I couldn't be blind to the facts of the case. If Edward was covering for someone and refusing to give them up, then he would be the one to face the consequences.

He shook his head. "I'm going to call my lawyer, Detective. I have nothing more to say."

The words were ones I would expect to come from a man of his stature in this situation; the tone however, was not. Edward Cullen had not sounded defensive, abrupt or haughty, but upset that it had come to this, yet oddly determined.

A tiny piece of my heart did go out to him. I wondered who he was protecting.

We left the apartment empty-handed, but I knew our next move had to be getting an arrest warrant signed. The problem would be finding a Judge. I had a feeling I was going to have to ask Captain Uley.

I made my partner pull into a bagel shop first though. Jake had barely refrained snarling as we left and I wasn't about to deal with him biting my head off again. Food seemed to be the best way to calm him down.

"Morning, Bella!" Tony, the owner greeted.

"Hi, Tony," I returned, giving him a smile. "Can I get two monster bagels and half an oatmeal and flax seed muffin to go? Oh and a large black coffee and a milk, too, please."

I could feel Jake's surprise gaze, as well as see Tony's look of disbelief, but I ignored the first and gave the latter my most innocent face, as if I ordered that much food all the time.

Second breakfast dealt with (Jacob demolished the first bagel before we pulled back out and the second one in slightly longer time), we made our way back to the station. 

**8:14am**

I sat down at my desk and booted up my computer and eyed my desk as I greeted the boys who had come in to write their own reports. We didn't usually have much in the way of mail on Saturday, and never this early, but there was a large brown mailer on my desk with my name scrawled across it. My interest perked as I noted it. I hoped it was the results Jazz had managed to find.

I listened with half an ear as all the guys made idle morning chit-chat while I opened the envelope. Blood rushed through my ears as I recognized the contents.

I lost track of the world around me for a moment as I studied what I held in my hands.

"Bella? What's wrong?" I vaguely heard Quil ask, but I couldn't bring myself to speak.

"Bella?…what the hell…" Jacob tore the photos of my hands as I sat there, stunned.

There were photos of Angela's dead body in her car. But more disturbingly, there were photos of _me_ in my apartment from the other night: as I was having my first glass of wine; while toweling off my hair from my shower; leafing through my cooking magazine; getting ready to go to bed.

Hadn't I gotten that creepy feeling of being watched?

"Shit." -Embry.

"Motherfuc-" -Quil.

"We're arresting that bastard _**NOW**_," Jake spat. There was no question who he meant.

"But we just…." My mind was kind of spinning. We had_ just_ left Cullen's.

"You gotta tell Uley," Quil insisted.

Quil was right. This would have to be reported to Uley. I could only imagine what a mess that would be.

"Forget Uley," Jacob scoffed. He turned to me, his gaze intense again. "Bella, there are only two people you talked to this morning besides me, and the only reason I can think of for these is that you are close to the killer." He shuffled through the pile, frowning as he paused at what he was looking at. "And it isn't Ben."

Jacob stared at me with a serious expression before turning the picture towards me. I couldn't help but gasp at what I saw.

"'Cause Ben Cheney's dead."

* * *

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